“Master
Frank, it is time to go eat with the Priest.”
Frank
lifted his head off the table and scowled at me. However, he knew his duty and pulled
himself together. He ordered a cup
of espresso and dispatched it quickly.
Then we went back to our car.
“Jack,
what the hell does this Priest do?”
“He
is a Jesuit priest and works in the Corps of Gendarmerie. That is like the U.S. Government's FBI
and CIA all rolled into one. Over
the last sixty years there have been numerous rumors of the Vatican being
involved in espionage.”
Frank
sat with his head back in the seat and asked me if any of it had been
substantiated. I told
him no. Just the odd news article
in second rate papers or TV shows.
“Well,
let’s see what this damn priest has to say” and with that he closed his
eyes.
After
another six and a half minutes we pulled up to the desolate convent. Frank told me to find the Priest and
bring him to the car. “That will
give me a chance to get my eyes open.”
Open
they were when the Priest jumped in the back seat and sat next to Frank. Monsignor Angelo Pietro was dressed
in a black suit which made him look like a businessman except for the
traditional tonsure
collar.
Frank
made an effort to sit up and greeted the Monsignor, “Good to see you,
Padre. So are there any restaurants
worth going to in this town?”
“Nothing
that would ever make it in the Roma market, but I know of one that takes a
little pride in their menu. I’ll
text it to your robot friend and he can tell the car.”
About
ten second later I got the info and ordered our car to go there. It was about four miles away on the
outskirts of town.
“Monsignor,
do you have any idea what got into your nuns?”
“Well,
thankfully, they are not my nuns. I
have taken vows of poverty and that includes claiming any ownership of my fellow
Catholics. But this is something I
have never seen before. Here and
there we get a nun or priest who leaves the church. I have seen a couple of cases where a
nun and priest have fallen in love and left together. It is very rare.”
“I
understand the rarity. What did the
ladies tell you?”
“That
is the funny thing, Mr. Huntington, they really gave me no good reasons. They were very emotional about their new
lack of faith, but they could not give me concrete example of what set them
off.”
“No
scandal? No pressure from above or
internal split among the sisters?” Frank bluntly asked.
The
Monsignor took a big breath and shook his head, “Nothing. All the emails and written
correspondence hint at no division or issues. Have you interviewed them
yet?”
“Yes,
I saw them after talking to you.”
“What
did you find out?”
“Well,
like you, I heard no stories about how their faith started to wane. It all seemed to come on
suddenly.”
“That
is what I have gathered. I have
heard of rare cases where something in food or bread has caused mass
hallucinations or delusions. I have
sent off samples of all the foods I found to Rome for analysis, but I have never
heard of any food contaminants that could cause people to become
atheists.”
“Well,
I often thought Jack Daniels helped me become a reformed Christian” Frank said
with a chuckle. The Monsignor let a
small laugh escape, but then looked directly at Frank and asked him, “What are
you going to write about this, Mr. Huntington?”
“I’m
not sure. It all sounds nuts. It would be an easy story if they had a
reason. One always wonders if sex
had anything to do with it, but most of those women are old enough to be my
great grandmother. I don’t sense
any type of scandal.”
“Neither
do I.”
“I
take it you have talked to them, Monsignor?”
“Yes,
I have talked to most of the women.
At first they were more than open with me. By the time I came to investigate they
had already settled down. The Bible
burning and the smashing of religious artifacts was already done. Some of them seemed almost embarrassed
by what they had done to the convent. They did not regret it, but they realized
that it really did not do them any good.”
“Do
you think they soon go their own way?”
“No,
I think they feel a need to stick together. It would be more comfortable for the
church if they just went back to their hometowns and disappeared. However, I think they feel they need to
stay as a group – like an atheist convent.
They seem emotionally very frail.”
“You
are right about that. With the old
Mother Superior taking her life they probably all need a
shrink.”
“The
Mother Superior killed herself! Oh,
Sweet Jesus, have mercy on her soul.”
I
thought the Monsignor looked a little shaken. Frank ignored his discomfort and asked a
rather pointed question.
“Why
did the church forcibly kick them out of the convent?”
“We
had no choice. They were preaching
to the locals that the church was a sham and the locals were angered at their
attacks on their faith. Catholicism
is very strong in small towns in Spain.
They felt betrayed by these women who had been the town’s moral compass
for centuries. If we had not
evicted them the locals would have taken things into their own
hands.”
“Sounds
ugly. Are you going to restock the
nunnery?”
“You
make it sounds like we are running a poultry yard instead of a convent, Mr.
Huntington.”
“Sorry,
sometimes I don’t know how to phrase these things with tact, but are more nuns
coming?”
“Not
right away. A lot of restoration
work needs to be done and I think a cooling off period is
necessary.”
“I
suppose.”
“What
are you going to write about this, Mr. Huntington?”
“I’m
not sure, to be honest. Not that it
is your business. I haven’t found
an angle for this story that would make it realistic. Right now it is one of those stories
where the reader would scratch his head and think the nuns all went off the deep
end.”
“Thank
you for your honesty. I just wanted
to be sure you would not sensationalize it.”
“I
work for the Wall Street Journal, not the National Enquirer. What the National Enquirer does after
they see my article is anybody’s guess.
They will probably blame aliens. ”
“I
know I can’t ask you to not write about this. I have no right. Just remember that not everything the
church does is out of self interest or for securing more donations. Most in the clergy wish to help our
fellow humans find a way to be the best they can be. I am not sure these ladies know what is
best for them or for humanity. They
seem lost. They don’t believe in
God, but they don’t believe in themselves either. I feel sorry for
them.
“Is
the church going to try and help them?”
“If
it were up to me they would get help, but from what I gather my superiors will
do is rather reactionary. That is
off the record, by the way.”
“Understood.”
“Sir,”
I interjected,” here is the restaurant.”
“Good,
I’m starved. After you
Monsignor.”
Frank
and Monsignor ordered their meals and a bottle of good local wine. Frank brought the conversation back to
the topic at hand after the first sip of wine.
“How
long have you been working for the church, Monsignor?”
“Sixteen
years. Four in
Roma.”
“From
what my Jaic tells me you work for a pretty elite unit in the
Vatican.”
“You
know fifty years ago no one knew who worked for the Gendarmerie.”
“Well,
that is probably a good thing. With
all the technology being used against the common man it is nice to know that the
common man has access to some of the same tools. The Internet is the only thing saving
the common man from a world-wide dystopia.”
“You
make it sound like your one of those conspiratorists who think even their toilet
is listening to them.”
“The
only thing that listens to me are my two Jacks – that thing over there and a
half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.”
“Is
it your atheism that drives you to the bottle?”
“I
think it is my disgust with the species I happen to be part of. In my business I see so much self
inflicted crap. Religious wars,
superstition, greed, hate, suffering; and most of it is avoidable with just a
little intelligence.”
“That
is why we need the mercy of God.”
“Hey,
if I fell for that I would just tell God to clean up his own mess. We are in His image, which I must say
shows a lack of imagination on his part.
What keeps you in the Church?”
“Maybe
I am just blessed with a simpler mind.
I can’t see how you can ignore a prime mover. The Universe still needs to make sense
to me.”
“I
have to admit that belief in an all powerful God is just as irrational as
believing in String Theory or a lot of that Quantum mumbo jumbo, but those damn
scientists keep finding ways to test their crazy theories eventually. Whereas the Bible is so full of stupid
stuff it is barely readable to anyone with half a brain. I would think all the cherry picking
that Christians do would drive even you to drink.”
“The
Bible, like life, is confusing. God
did not think to hand us a complete Bible.
He revealed himself over many centuries and He continues to do so. And His instruments that He used to
write down His Word were often not scholars but flawed ordinary men of humble
beginnings. I like that fact that
the Bible is imperfect. It is its
strength, you know.”
“That
is self evident by the way you can pretty much find your own opinions if you
look hard enough.”
“Think
of it like your country's Constitution.
It continues to evolve and change with the times. Humankind is slowly growing up and the
Bible stays relevant because of its imperfections and complexity. God can only reveal His Truth when
humankind is ready to understand.”
“You
are a clever Jesuit. I can see why
you work for the Pope. What you are
saying is that Christians can interpret the Bible any fucking way they want
to.”
“No,
Mr. Atheist. I am saying that as we
grow up we will understand what is really God’s Word and intentions for
us.”
Frank
took his wine glass and empty it down fast and said, “I can’t argue with a
moving goal post.”
“You
can’t argue with the living Word.”
“So
how does the ‘living word’ explain your wayward nuns?”
“As
I said earlier, these nuns are a puzzle.
They are adamant in their atheism but they know so little about
atheism. They can put forward none
of the cliché arguments your people make.”
“I
sensed the same when I interviewed Miss Lopez. I have not talked to any of the
others. I would have loved to talk
to their Mother Superior, but that is now impossible.”
“You
would have heard the same from her as you did from the sister. It is like they woke up with a
disease. Religious amnesia, I guess
you could call it.”
“Catchy
– religious amnesia. Sorry, I
didn’t mean to pun.”
“One
expects that by a man who uses words for a living. How long have you been an ink stained
wretch?”
“I’ve
lost count, but it has made my life interesting. I have been able to go all over the
world, much like you. Do you ever
get tired of slinking around for the Papacy?”
“No. I don’t call it ‘slinking’, but I do
love my work. I am almost tempted
to say it is an addiction and worth several hundred ‘Hail Marys’ a week. It may sound old fashioned but I feel I
am fighting the devil. A good fight
makes one feel alive.”
“Have
you ever fought someone whose ideas you were tempted by?”
“No. It would take someone with a richness of
ideas to tempt me. Worldly wealth
is no temptation to me.”
“Worldly
pleasure?”
“No,
Mr. Huntington. I am one of those
who is not fixated or perhaps the word is ‘cursed’ with the need for
hedonism. I am not stricken with
what seems to be one of your needs.”
“Am
I that transparent? No, don’t
answer. I guess that was a
rhetorical question.”
The
food came and the two gentlemen enjoyed their meal and conversation. I guess I would describe the rest of the
conversation as ‘light fencing’ with neither side revealing anything new as far
as the nuns were concerned.
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